


The Four Times They Met

by Biana_Delacroix



Category: Pretty Little Liars, Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Crack Crossover, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:23:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1221076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biana_Delacroix/pseuds/Biana_Delacroix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kol is bored and Spencer's life makes for one hell of a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Four Times They Met

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of crossover crack fun, written as a gift for a lovely friend, inspired by the upcoming guest starring of Nathaniel Buzolic in PLL. I have no idea how the two timelines coherently fit together, but then, Kol was barely ever in Mystic Falls, so I figure he kept busy.

The first time he meets her, he’s so fucking  _bored._

He’s always bored though. The problem with fleeing from his demented family was that he was left without any company, and until he hit one of the larger cities, there was hardly anything for him to do. The world had changed over the last century, but it was nothing he couldn’t get used to. Cars were faster, lights were brighter, the skirts were shorter but all small towns were the same and as he strolled through the town of Rosewood, he appreciated the predictability. A small restaurant, (why were they all  _Grills?_ ) filled with potential targets, and as he ordered a shot of bourbon, he picked the one he wanted.

“Hello there darling,” he simpered, sidling up to the young brunette. She cast him a glance, gave a light scoff and turned back to the book she had in her hands. Kol frowned, downing his drink and moving to play with a strand of hair that had fallen on the girl’s neck, chuckling when she slapped it back immediately.

“Personal space?” she asked testily, glaring him down with contempt. She moved to slip off her barstool and walk away before the chirp of a phone drew her attention, and she glanced at the device’s screen.

“Problem?” Kol asked. Her face paled, and she darted glances all around her. With one last suspicious glare at Kol, she shoved her phone in her purse and took a step away, only to be stopped by a hand curled around her elbow.

“What the fu-“

“Follow me quietly,” Kol ordered, compulsion taking hold. He had been hungry, after all.

Minutes later, he retracts his fangs from her neck and watches her slump against the wall of the back alley and slide down to the ground, face drained of colour. There’s nothing more to be done, but as he leaves she drops her purse, contents scattering. Out of curiosity, he picked up the sleek cellphone, the message she had received still displayed on the front screen.

**_Remember bitch, I  can see everything – A_ **

There’s a picture attached, a picture of the girl in front of him sitting at the grill, clearly taken by somebody standing outside the restaurant. It’s a little creepy, even he has to admit that and as he glances between the message and the girl, he realizes he’s not the biggest monster she has to contend with.

“What your name, darling?” he asked as he crouched down in front of her.

She stared up at him with a murderous glare, stubborn even in her disadvantaged position. She’s clearly not going to be saying a word.

“Come on pet, don’t be like that!” he said with amusement. “Don’t won’t to be rude now do we?”

“You’re going to kill me, so I don’t think I give a damn,” she said hoarsely.  

Kol threw his head back and laughed at her audacity. Never mind that she likely had no clue what was going on, she still held onto her pride. “You’re clever. And brave. And clearly you have bigger problems than me…” Cocking his head to the side, he regarded her for a moment before bringing his own wrist to his lips and drawing blood, which he quickly forced down her throat, watching as the wound in her neck healed.

Taking her hand and yanking her to her feet, he smirked to see the confusion written over her face. “How about now, pet – tell me your name?”

“Spencer,” she spat out.

He grinned at her concession, and let his pupils dilate one more time. “ _Spencer,_ go back inside, clean the blood off your neck and return to your seat. You will forget all of this.”

She leaves and he saunters off, whistling into the night.

***

The second time he meets her, she’s a bit of a mess.

No, that’s not right – she’s a  _complete_ mess. The woods are dark and no place for a young woman, who is stumbling around, tears streaming down her face and he wonders what happened to that brave and clever girl he met in the bar.

“Rough night darling?” he called out, sauntering closer to her. She barely registered that he was there until he was right in front of her face, staring her in the eyes and seeing that something had snapped, something had happened to shatter her mind.

“ _Toby,”_  she whispers, “Toby, toby, he’s gone, he’s dead, he, he-“ she trailed off with a sob, bringing an arm up to cover her mouth, as tremors began to rack her body.

“Come on now darling, there’s no need for hysterics,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me what in hell’s happened to you?”

She stumbled away from him, as if sensing that he was a threat (and he was, he  _always_ was,) and for one moment her eyes steeled against him, her suspicion flaring. He grinned to see her try and fight, turning on her heel and running before he’s flashed right in front of her and grabbed her by her arms, holding her in vice grip as she struggled to get away.

“Now, now, none of that – what are you running from?”

She stopped at his question and looked up with him, her eyes flickering between lucidity and hysteria. One moment she knows what’s happening, the next she seems to think this is all one big nightmare.

“Mona,” she whispered quietly and then her features contorted into unmistakable rage, trying again to get away. “Let me go, I have to find _her!”_  she shrieked, but Kol didn’t let his grip falter, becoming more and more intrigued by this girl and all that’s happening to her. He remembers the picture on her phone, the message.

“Had a tiff over a boy?” he asked sarcastically, trying to work out the story.

Spencer looked up at him, the ice in her glare vitriolic even by his standards –

(And he has Rebekah for a sister, he’s been on the receiving end of more than a few death glares)

– and she lowers her voice to a hiss. “She killed him,” she seethed quietly. “ _She. Killed. Him._ ”

He’s almost taken aback by her tone, but then her anger gives way to grief. Letting go of her shoulders, he steps back and is set to run, be on his merry way and let this girl wander the woods for better or worse, but instead of collapsing, he surprised to see that she remains upright and turns away from him wandering off, still mumbling the name of that boy. Let it be known that Kol Mikaelson did not succumb to  _sentiment_ , so he let her go off without a passing thought. There was nothing more to be done for something so broken.

_Except…_

Except a few hours later, as he’s taking a bite out of a hiker, he finds himself healing the man and compelling him some simple instructions.

“There’s a girl, lost in the woods. Find her, and get her help.”

What’s a little sentiment if no one ever finds out about it?

***

The third time he meets her, he intentionally seeks her out. He’s back in her little town (which is a much more insidious place than anyone would give it credit for) and he thinks, ‘why not?’ There’s no harm in seeing if she ever found her way out of those woods. And she did, he realizes with a surprising amount of pride – he’s always satisfied to know his judgments are right, and she was every bit as clever as he had initially thought. A little bit of compulsion on a young woman at the local coffee shop gives him all the information he needs about Spencer Hastings – including her address.

It’s easy enough to procure an invitation inside from a woman who resembles her daughter in cleverness and tenacity. He waits until the house is empty then slips inside, and soon enough, he’s joined by the young brunette, who barely notices his presence until he sees her stiffen by her kitchen and then slowly reach a hand out to the knife block, pulling out a blade and whirling around, coming face to face with him and finding her wrist caught in his grip and the blade thrown across the coutner before she can blink.

“Now, now, none of that,” he said, amused. “You’re not going to try to hurt me, or tell anyone I’m here. You’re going to relax and answer my questions.”

She relaxed, but her sharp gaze didn’t falter, and she scrutinized him carefully. “Oh my god, it’s  _you.”_ Spencer backed away, shaking a head, running a hand through her limp hair. “I thought I had imagined – that night in the woods, with Toby –“

“Who was that, by the way?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” she answered without thinking and  frowned to herself, as if wondering why she had given up that information so easily.

“So he wasn’t dead after all?” asked Kol, cocking his head to the side. For a human, her life was certainly interesting, he’d give her that.

“No, Mona faked his death.” Again, she shook her head as if wondering what was driving her to be so open, but Kol simply leant against the counter and watched her try to puzzle it all out. Slowly, she looked up at him, carefully assessing the threat he posed. His compulsion meant she was relaxed, but it did nothing to allay her paranoia.

“Who are you?” she asked evenly.

“Kol Mikaelson.”

“Why were you in the woods that night? Are you a part of – do you know  _Alison_?”

Now he’s sufficiently intrigued, noting the way she says the name ‘Alison’, partly with fear, partly with suspicion, and just a hint of disdain. “Now, who’s  _Alison?_ ” he asked, readying himself for a good story.

She scoffed. “Don’t even try that,” she spat. “Or are you one of  _Ezra’s_ friends?”

Kol chuckled and then flashed right in front of her, holding her by the shoulders. “Oh pet, I truly have no idea what you’re talking about, but you’re going to tell me  _everything._ ”

And she does. Compulsion is strong, after all, even on a girl who has enough secrets to rival some of  the oldest vampires he knew. They go to her bedroom, her curled up in a rocking chair and him idly inspecting the compilation of trophies and accolades she has, and he hears one very long story about a girl who liked to tell lies and the everything that happened because of them. He learns about Alison and Ezra and somebody who like to hide in people’s closets and call themselves ‘A’ –

(“I’m probably going to get a text about this in the morning you know – some random guy in my room all night? That’s prime material.”

“ _Relax_ , darling, there’s no one around. Believe me, I know.”

“’A’s  _always_ around.”)

– and he learns about her friends, who were as close as family and the trials they had been subjected too. It’s all one big mess, and to be honest, he’s surprised they’ve all lasted this long.

“You would’ve liked her, you know. Alison.” Spencer says idly once she’s wrapped things up. “She was all mysterious and crap.”

"Nah. She ran. You’re still here. Clever and brave, like I said."

"Seriously, don’t you have anything better to do?"

"You’d be surprised."  Just when he’s wondering how long the story’s gone on for, the first rays of dawn have are streaming in through the window and he turns to see Spencer popping two pills in her mouth, looking a little guilty when she sees him watching her.

“Pills? And this is  _after_ the stint in the mental hospital?” Kol asked, voice heavy with condescension which she did  _not_ appreciate.

“Go to hell,” she muttered. “Actually, what do you even want now? Why are you doing this?” Spencer’s long past trying to figure out why she was so open to spilling all her secrets, and she’s smart enough to know her relaxed state is not of her own free will, but she’s willing to go along with it, if only because telling  _somebody_ about the clusterfuck that is her life is actually sort of…nice?

(That’s a dangerous way to look at it, she knows, but between the stalker and the drug addiction, this is nothing.)

“I was bored,” said Kol, in response to her question. “And I have a fondness for pretty things with sharp tongues, especially when they come with a good story.”

She rolled her eyes at his false charm, then pressed her fingers to her temple, the tiredness and compulsion both taking a toll. “I don’t need this now,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “I need to figure out what Ezra’s next move is – I have to tell Aria…” Ignoring him then, she grabbed her purse and rushed out of the room, Kol following, curious to see what she what do. He wondered how necessary the compulsion he put on her even was, she was in a more fragile state than he realized. And whether it was out of continued curiosity or that unfortunate sentiment he  _hoped_ he wasn’t developing he finds himself easing the car keys out of her hand and driving her over to her school himself.

“You’re going to forget last night,” he tells her as they sit parked outside the school. “You’re going to forget that you told me everything, you’re going to forget that you talked to me, you’re going to forget how you got here.”

He jumped out of the car, and watched her stumble inside, unfocused and confused. “Good luck Spencer!” he called out, but by the time she had turned around to see who had called her, he was long gone.

***

The fourth time he meets her, he’s finally decided that he wants to see if he can’t help her out a little with the multitude of problems she’s having. After all, his siblings have their pet projects, why can’t he?

“Spencer, nice to meet you! I’m Dean.”

She racked her brain – she could _swear_ she’s seen him before.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's a wrap!


End file.
